Velvet Haven (14 page)

She hoped like crazy that tonight he’d do them for real.

Bran contemplated Mairi over the candlelight and a glass of wine. She was nervous. It was coming off her in waves. He didn’t know what to do, what to say to make her at ease. How could he, since he didn’t know why she felt this way?

He knew she didn’t sleep around. Knew instinctively that she did not altogether understand the sensual hunger that burned deep within her. Bran saw it in her, felt it on her skin. She’d given him energy last night from only a kiss. Remarkable. Mairi had no damn idea how unique she was. How much he wanted to get to know her.

“I want to thank you again for the flowers,” she said. “They’re really gorgeous.”

Their gazes met, and she dropped her fork on the plate and sat back in her chair. She’d only picked at her food. He had the sudden urge to feed her.

“You’re welcome.” He cut into the chocolate torte and swirled the bite in the whipped cream. Then he lifted it to her mouth. “Have another bite. You barely ate your dinner.”

“I’m full.”

He arched his brow, challenging her. “No, you’re not.”

She gave in and took the bite between her teeth. He sat back, watching her, feeling his body grow hot and aroused beneath his leather pants.

He had not dressed for this . . . date, as Rhys had called it. He was what he was. He couldn’t change that. No suit and tie would cover up what he was—an immortal, hungering for a mortal. “I’ve been wondering,” she asked, as she toyed with her fork. “Where did you find such exquisite flowers? I’ve never seen the likes before.”

He smiled. No, she wouldn’t have. “They grow wild.” That was the truth. They grew only in Annwyn, and only by the reflecting pool. The water nymphs were fiercely protective of them. He had paid a high price for the posy he had picked for Mairi. He had allowed a nymph to leave the pool, to change her shape into that which she yearned for—a mortal.

It had gone against his better judgment to grant such a wish. He was king, and as king he had a duty to keep Annwyn and its inhabitants safe, free of all mortal vices. But he had wanted those flowers. Had wanted to smell them and touch them. He had wanted a connection with Mairi. And it scared the hell out of him.

Cailleach would be furious with him. Nymphs were dwindling, unable to breed since their males had died off. Letting one go would be seen as treachery. But he could deal with Cailleach. She wasn’t the problem. Mairi was.

She met his gaze over the flickering candle; then she flushed and looked away, and suddenly he knew. She was remembering their conversation last night. Recalled what they had done. Their eyes met again, except he caught her gaze, held it, forced her to not look away, and like the nymph’s flowers, she bloomed, revealing her intoxicating scent.

“I don’t mean to make you nervous.”

She smiled, lowered her head as she brushed her hair behind her ear. “It’s . . . awkward.”

He reached for her hand, entwined his fingers with hers. “I don’t mean to make it that way.”

Her eyelashes flickered, her gaze lifted to his. “I’m really not good with this sort of thing.”

“I know. It’s what I like about you, Mairi.”

He had taken a lot of women to his bed, both immortal and mortal. They had all been experienced, well versed in a variety of pleasures. And while Mairi was not a virgin, she had little experience with the sort of pleasure he was aching to show her. He wanted to be the one to open her up to that world of sensuality. He wanted to be her first in true pleasure.

“I wonder what Rowan is up to,” she asked as she gazed around the room. “It was nice of Sayer to invite her tonight. Rowan needs to get out.”

Bran shrugged. “He wanted to see her again.”

She nodded and folded her hands in her lap.

“Do you want to find your friend? I believe she and Sayer were heading to the bar. He’s performing in the magic show tonight. Perhaps you would like to see it?”

She nodded, stood, and smoothed her hands down her jeans. Her luscious body called to his, but he tamped down the urge to pull her to him.

Trust.
He wanted hers.

They left the dining room, and he guided her down the hall to the ballroom.

With his hand on her back, he steered her through the door. The room was packed, standing room only. He motioned to the back wall, and he stood beside her, holding her hand. She felt so small beside his height and bulk, and he felt oddly protective of her, as if she were his.

Sayer was on an elevated stage, dressed in a hooded robe, as he mesmerized the crowd. With his hands he raised a circular sphere that writhed and moved like a bubble. Like a bubble, the sphere was transparent, except for the odd flashing of muted color, which was illuminated by the pot lights in the ceiling. Inside the sphere, images began to take shape.

The image of a man appeared, followed next by two women who went to their knees before the man’s spread legs. A woman sitting at a table near them gasped and slapped the man she was with. The second woman in the sphere was sitting alone at the table beside theirs.

Bran smiled, wondering how many men here were thinking of being pleasured by two women. They had better hope Sayer didn’t catch wind of their fantasies or else they’d be sleeping on the couch tonight like this poor bastard.

The sphere cleared, churned. Mist rolled over the undulating globe, and Sayer’s hands rose higher in the air. The mist turned to fog, the tendrils writhing and twisting, like the tails of incense smoke. They twined together, forming a couple locked in an embrace. A tendril of fog became a hand, which moved lower, between the thighs of the smoke figure.

“
Every guy here wants to finger a pussy
,” Sayer mentally whispered to him.
“These mortals really have got to work on their imaginations.”

Bran hid his smile. This was the show that everyone came to see. Sayer, enchanting the audience, pulling from them their darkest desires, their closest secrets. No mind was safe from Sayer’s incredible ability. Not even his, he feared, as he saw Mairi’s shape begin to appear in the sphere.

Bran saw Sayer grin beneath the hood. “
Ah, c’mon, show these mortals a little Sidhe fantasy. It’ll make these bores sit up and take notice.”

“
Sayer . . .
” Bran growled in warning.

Bran glanced at Mairi. She was mesmerized by the illumination, the hypnotizing motion of the fog and the atmospheric music that played. A mortal’s mind was easy for Sayer to seduce, and Mairi, it seemed, had succumbed with alarming swiftness.

“
Let her go,
” Bran mentally commanded him, even as he watched a new image take shape, that of a woman whose hand clasped her breasts, before one hand snaked between her thighs.

The shadowy image took form in the sphere as it moved and undulated, breaking free of the bubble. The crowd gasped as the life-sized image of a woman appeared, her hair long, floating around her shoulders. The image was opaque, her features muted. But Bran knew it was Mairi.

The figure split in two, and a second shape appeared. This one of a man.

But Sayer was done communicating now that he was deeply inside Mairi’s mind, picking through her thoughts, enchanting her so that she would show Sayer what he wanted.

Bran moved against her, shielding her from the sphere, which hypnotized the mortals. He heard Sayer laugh, the sound echoing in his mind.

He looked down at Mairi and he saw her eyes widen. He followed her line of sight, and saw Suriel sitting at a table all alone. He was watching them. Awareness flooded her, and Bran felt her body trembling.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, wanting to take her away, to keep her safe.

She nodded and allowed him to lead her out of the room. As he closed the door, he met Suriel’s gaze. There was challenge in the bastard’s dark eyes. A challenge he was ready to meet—for Mairi’s sake.

“Wow, that was strange,” she whispered, rubbing her arms.

“The magic show?”

“No, the guy. Suriel. I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

Probably in her nightmares. Suriel liked to haunt. He found pleasure in the most perverse amusements. Bran wouldn’t allow Mairi to amuse Suriel. For some reason, this mortal had begun to matter to him.

Mairi swallowed, unable to look away from Bran. God, he was the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen, and she wanted him. She just didn’t know how to get past the awkwardness she felt.

“Mairi, are you all right?”

She nodded. She’d be even better if he would kiss her like he did last night. But so far, he’d given her no clues that he desired her. He’d been nothing but gentlemanly, making conversation, asking her about herself and her hobbies. Nothing like last night on the phone when he seduced her.

He moved closer, the wall of his massive chest brushing the curve of her breast, and she closed her eyes, wanting to feel more. But how did she ask? Did she just take? And what would he do? What would he think if she did?

“You’re feeling awkward about last night.”

She blew out her held breath and nodded.

“Don’t.”

“It’s just . . .” She looked around, struggling to find the strength to pull him to her and command him to take her.

“Mairi?” he murmured as he brought her up against the wall and brushed her ear with his mouth. “Are you wondering what it would be like to have my hands on you? Wondering what my naked body would feel like on yours, what my mouth is capable of doing as I spread your thighs?”

God, yes. This was what she wanted. She wanted to admit it to him, to clutch him to her, but that was too desperate. Not at all sexy and confident. So she shook her head, denying it all.

“I can feel it within you. Sexual need. Hunger for pleasure. You’re starved for it, Mairi, and I want to be the one to feed it to you.”

She was robbed of breath. How did he know? Mairi was aware of the mad pulsing of her heartbeat in her throat. One word came to mind.
Now
. She needed him, and what he could give her now.

“Will you take your pleasure from me? Let me nourish you with my body.”

The guy was totally out of this world, and every word he was saying was making her womb clench and her panties dampen. Every cell in her body was screaming out for her to trust, to try it just this once and take what Bran was offering her. His words alone had her so wound up that one touch of those long fingers would send her sliding over the edge.

She wanted to touch him, to make sure he was real and not just another dream guy. She couldn’t handle that, waking up to discover that Bran was nothing but a dream.

She wanted the feel of his hands on her body, opening her, touching her. She thought of the flowers he’d given her—
picked
for her. She wanted to be that flower, blooming.

“Bran,” she whispered, reaching out to him. Giving in to what she wanted . . .

Mairi’s hand came up to his face. He watched her reach for him. He saw right away the two scars that slashed across her wrist. Intrigued, he reached for her hand, pinning her arm above her head.

“No,” she pleaded, trying to pull away. The sensuality he saw in her eyes quickly evaporated.

His thumb moved over the jagged flesh. Her pulse leaped against the pad of his thumb as he traced the jagged marks. On the surface it was an old wound, but he’d bet all his magic that the pain ran much deeper than the surface of her pale skin.